


i love you, i love you (and all of your pieces)

by thisapathy



Series: come sink into me and let me breathe you in [4]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, Father/Son Incest, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 10:51:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3765412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisapathy/pseuds/thisapathy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carl finally manages to ask Rick about Jessie and lets his insecurities slip out in the process. Set in 5x16.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i love you, i love you (and all of your pieces)

**Author's Note:**

> companion fic to "slow it down" but you don't absolutely have to read that to have an understanding of what's happening here. unbeta'd so any/all mistakes are my own. coinciding drabbles [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4650096)

Carl sits in the family room, eyes fixated on the door, and he doesn't mean to but he scowls. It was bad enough that Rick lost his shit after Lori died but now, in front of an entire community when they're already under the microscope, it's even worse. He tells himself that maybe his dad's going crazy again because they're not fucking anymore, he's almost certain, but he ignores that notion because those thoughts are self-indulgent and childish. He’s old enough to know better than to be jealous or bitter but that doesn’t change the way he feels about what Rick did for Jessie. He doesn’t know the whole story, doesn’t want to know the whole story, and doesn’t plan on asking Rick either. And when he’s least expecting it, Rick walks through the door with his jacket in his hand.

"Dad!" he says, and he can't stop himself from rushing to Rick. He hugs him loosely, arms around his torso.

"Hey," Rick says, and he's quick to indulge with an arm around Carl's neck.

"You okay?"

"Yeah. Look, I'm sorry."

"I heard about the meeting."

"You're staying home," Rick says decisively, turning to leave.

"That's what it is now, right? Home?"

Rick turns. "Yeah."

"They need us. They'll die without us,"

Rick hesitates, but then steps closer. "I might have to threaten one of them. I could have to kill one of them."

"You won't,” he assures.

"I might."

"You gotta tell them."

"I told 'em last night."

"You should tell them so they can hear you."

"I don't know if they can. Does that make you afraid?"

He wants to scoff; he’s scared of very few things—losing Rick being one of them—but he can’t say as much for Alexandria’s fate. Instead, he sighs. "Just—for them. You _have_ to tell them."

Rick nods, steps forward again and runs his fingers through Carl's bangs. He probably says something about how he needs a haircut—Carl doesn't know, he's not paying attention—because Rick is pressing a kiss to his forehead at the same time and his hands are on his hips.

"Dad..."

Rick moves closer, lips against his ear and whispers, "I miss you."

Carl won't admit it but that makes him weak in the knees. He wants to pull away, tries to even, but something deep inside won't let him. "I miss you too," he whispers back, and those definitely aren't the words he meant to say.

Rick pulls back from him and heads up the stairs. "You comin'?"

He tells himself no over and over with each step toward the staircase but he still sheds his jacket and tosses it over the banister. He takes the stairs behind Rick one by one until they're at the top. He knows they've got time, no one's going to come looking for Rick, not till the meeting later tonight. He doesn't know why they're doing this when they both agreed they wouldn't.

When they're in the room Rick presses him against the door once it's closed and he's taken by surprise, but he wouldn't want it any other way. He moans against into the kiss, fingers desperately grasping at Rick's white t-shirt. They break apart way too soon when Rick lifts him and carries him to the bed. He hits the mattress with a soft grunt. "We said we wouldn't do this."

"I know," Rick nods.

Carl reaches up and pulls him down into a kiss and it hasn't even been that long but it feels like months have passed since the last time they did this. He feels Rick's hand slide between his body and the mattress and groans into his mouth when Rick squeezes his thigh.

"You like that?"

" _Yes_ ," Carl breathes, and he can hear his pulse in his ears and he imagines how much better it's going to feel when Rick does that again without clothes in the way.

It's unexpected when Rick pulls away and kisses his forehead. “You’re gonna be the death of me," he says, earnest.

"Better me than a walker." And this is getting too sentimental for Carl's taste; he doesn't want to get reattached only to be ripped apart again in a few days. He looks up at Rick, eyes bright blue and shining, but his stomach is in knots. "Sit up."

"Yes sir," Rick says, doing as he's told.

Carl pulls off Rick's shirt and tosses it on the floor, ghosting his fingers over Rick's chest. "Did Deanna give you handcuffs? Those could be fun."

“No.” Rick gives him another sloppy kiss, lips parting with a wet smack. "You want me to tie you up instead?"

"Could be fun,” Carl shrugs. He's only halfway serious. He touches one of the white bandages on Rick's face. "Does it hurt?"

"Not much."

“I missed the beard,” he remarks, fingers trailing across Rick’s stubbled jaw.

”Did you?”

Carl's smile fades and he places his hands on his father's shoulders because he wants this, he wants it more than anything, but he knows it's a risk, and he knows that if they give in now, there's no going back, or it'll be the opposite; they'll remain apart like they agreed upon when they first got to Alexandria. He doesn't know which is worse.

"Are we really gonna do this?"

"D'you want to?" Rick asks, because he always has to ask.

"Of course I want to," he nods. His actions don't mimic his words; he moves to sit on the edge of the bed and Rick does the same. He presses his face into his father's shoulder and Rick smells like soap and cheap shampoo and Carl can't decide if that's better than smelling like sweat and blood. Part of him misses the world outside these walls even when it meant fighting off a dozen walkers and scavenging for that last bag of stale Doritos and sleeping in houses that were never theirs.

He hates what they are now, what they have to be, but they've talked about it and there's no going back. If Deanna finds out—if anyone finds out—Rick's as good as dead and Carl will be seen a victim. He isn't sure they'd actually _kill_ Rick, exile him maybe, separate them definitely, and it's too big a risk. "We can't," he says, voice small. "Deanna's already pissed at you. If they find out..."

Rick's hand slides to his knee and squeezes. "I know. Sorry for makin' you follow me." He sounds as disappointed as Carl is.

"You didn't _make me_ do anything.” Rick’s never made him do anything, never forced him, never persuaded him, left him to make his own decisions about their relationship because he’s the one who initiated it all those months ago. And he treats his father the same way, never forces him, never guilt trips him, but there’s one thing he wants to know, and he’ll get the answer out of Rick any way that he can.

"Dad?"

"Hm?"

"Did you fuck Jessie?"

Rick's face is a mix of shock and disgust and maybe it’s the abrupt way he asked or the answer that Rick is going to give, but Rick is silent and Carl decides immediately that he doesn’t want to know the answer anymore. He pulls away and he doesn't know why he's letting this get to him, doesn't know why he let himself follow Rick up the stairs.

He’s halfway to the door when Rick asks, "That's what you think?"

Rick's fallen into his trap and Carl can't help himself. "What am I supposed to think? She was all over you at that stupid party."

“What?”

“You could’ve at least had the decency to go outside. Didn’t have to flaunt it in front of everyone,” Carl snaps. And by ‘everyone’ he means himself.

Rick sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. "I get why you're upset."

It comes out of nowhere, but he's really not surprised because the resentment has been building for days. “Really? _Really_? ‘Cause I don’t think you do. You obviously didn’t care about how it’d make me feel. Never even asked me how I felt about you moving in on someone else’s wife.” And he can’t help it; he lashes out when he’s upset—God knows he did the same thing to Lori at the prison—and right now he’s _furious_. “You only ever wanted me ‘cause I was the closest thing you could get to Mom.”

He dares to look at Rick and they stare at each other and it’s like the world’s stopped spinning. Rick’s hurt, that’s obvious, and Carl kind of can’t believe he actually voiced that theory that’s been tucked into the back of his mind since the first time they fucked on the floor against that ratty couch. He watches Rick's knuckles turn white from their grip on the edge of the bed.

"That's not true," Rick replies finally.

Carl's still unconvinced and he's set on leaving and he's already halfway down the hall now.

"Carl!"

He doesn't want to hear Rick's lame excuses about how that's not true, about how Jessie is just a friend, about how they can't be together anymore. And Carl's not expecting it when someone grabs his arms from behind and pins him to the wall.

Rick's grip is firm but gentle, not hard enough to bruise, but Carl looks at anything that isn't his father's face.

"That is _not_ true," Rick snaps, hushed.

"It's not true?" Carl echoes in disbelief, trying to pull away.

Rick pins him down harder. "You _know_ it isn't. I love you, and you can take that how you want—I don't care—but that’s not what you are to me. Never were."

The words drag across his heart and he hangs his head because doesn't want to listen to what Rick says anymore. He doesn't want to remember the way they used to be together because they're so far past that now they'll probably never get it back even if they try. He doesn't even notice when he starts crying; it's Rick's rough fingers brushing away his tears that bring on the realization.

Rick's voice is softer now. "Look at me."

Carl shakes his head because he can't; it'll break him.

" _Look at me_."

And he looks up and it's everything he knew it'd be; he breaks down, and he's crying into Rick's shoulder and he's vaguely aware that Rick is carrying him back to the bedroom and closing the door.

They're on the bed again and Carl's still sniffling and he's embarrassed but at the same time it feels good to let everything out. He's not sobbing, not by any means, but Rick hushes him just the same.

"I'm sorry," Carl whimpers.

Rick's fingers run through his hair. "I know. S'okay."

He closes his eyes and relishes in the close contact. It's been so long since Rick's held him like this and he wants to savor it but at the same time he wants to finish what they started and he doesn’t care if it’ll start the vicious cycle all over again. He pulls away, wiping his face with the back of his hand and looking at Rick as if nothing happened. "Can we—?”

“If you want.”

Carl knows the look on his father’s face when he says that; he doesn’t think it’s a good idea for either of them, but he wants it, too, and Rick’s never denied him anything.

“I do."

"You're sure?"

"Yes.”

Rick’s fingers reach for the buttons on Carl’s shirt and he’s unbuttoning them way too slowly. “We shouldn’t be doin’ this,” he says with a hint of a smile.

Carl wants to say something about how that’s what Rick said last time they fucked, but he keeps his mouth closed for maybe the first time ever. He settles for an ‘I know’, soft and sure, and takes Rick’s face in his hands and kisses him.

Rick kisses him back and he pushes everything else to the back of his mind and tries not to be upset. And he's not, not really, because he knows they're not a couple, never were, and he knows that Rick will always love him more than any woman. He knows that he'll always come first, and he's perfectly fine with anything else.


End file.
